


Soldier, Keep on Marchin' On

by firedragonworks (firedragon32)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Pidge | Katie Holt, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D AU, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst for everyone, BAMF Allura (Voltron), BAMF Coran (Voltron), BAMF Hunk (Voltron), BAMF Keith (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), BAMF Pidge | Katie Holt, BAMF Shiro (Voltron), Bisexual Disaster Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Gen, Human Allura (Voltron), Human Coran (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) Angst, Inaccurate Military Terms, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) Friendship, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance and Romelle Friendship, M/M, Military Jargon, Mutual Pining, Pidge | Katie Holt Angst, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Angst, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Slow Burn, Sniper Lance (Voltron), Strangers to friends to family, Team Bonding, Team Voltron Family, Team as Family, Women in the Military, because I said so, don't think too hard about it ok, he's their unofficial mascot, klance, mostly - Freeform, slow burn found family, that's the best kind amiright, there's a stuffed lion named chewy, voltron military au, when i say slow burn i mean slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedragon32/pseuds/firedragonworks
Summary: The Galra have taken everything from her; her father, her home, her people. The terrorist known as Zarkon had slain her father, burned her country to the ground and salted the earth. But he forgot to take one thing: her determination, her patience. For years she bided her time, making preparations. And now she is ready to fight back. Because Allura is putting together a team, a group of the very best the Garrison has to offer.A hacker with a hidden missionAn explosives expert just trying to support his familyA sharpshooter with a thirst for revengeAn assassin with a problem with authorityA soldier trying to escape his pastAllura's team are the only ones standing between the Galra terrorists and utter chaos. Only they can defeat Zarkon and free the enslaved countries under his rule; that is, if they don't kill each other first.
Relationships: Allura & Coran (Voltron), Allura & Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance & Romelle (Voltron), Past Adam/Shiro
Comments: 118
Kudos: 163





	1. Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Voltron Force [Battlefront] - a VLD military au](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/693946) by lowaharts. 



> The title from this fic was taken from [this song](https://youtu.be/ihpBXdyf97A) by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie
> 
> There's a [playlist](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEJXuzcRLpH75z1bDX7TTQXVa-kUGnF34) for this fic as well. Feel free to DM me if you have any song suggestions!

* * *

_Soldier, keep on marchin’ on_

_Head down ‘till the work is done_

_Waiting on that morning sun_

_Soldier, keep on marchin’ on_

* * *

“How much would you be willing to bet that your plan would work?” The man leaned toward her, elbows on his desk and fingers steepled before his face. He wore an impeccable suit, tailored to perfection.

“I would bet my life, Mr. President,” the woman declared, lifting her chin. Confidence radiated from her, from the top of her white hair down to the toes of her boots.

The president of the Balmeran Alliance considered her. “You are Altean, correct?”

Allura dipped her head. “Yes, Mr. President. King Alfor was my father.”

“Hmm. I see now where you get your confidence, Princess Allura. But I’m afraid you’re too confident. I’m just not sure how this plan of yours will work. It’s risky and unnecessary.”

Allura leaned forward, blue eyes steely. “The Galra have now taken nearly all of Europe,” she said. “They have accessed countless amounts of quintessence, which only gives them more power. You say that Zarkon will stop. You say that the terrorists will leave your country be, after they have had their fill of power from Europe.” Her eyes flashed. “I can tell you that they will not. _History_ can tell you that they will not. Do you remember what Zarkon did to my country, Mr. President?”

The president nodded, eyes nervously flicking from Allura’s face to that of her bodyguard, who stoically stood behind her chair.

“Altea was destroyed,” Allura said, her voice ringing in the quiet room. “Burned to the ground. My people were slaughtered, and my father took his last stand with the previous Voltron Force. Now what makes you think that Zarkon will not do the same to _your_ country?”

The president was squirming in his chair; he didn’t like the cool intensity of her blue, blue eyes. He also didn’t like that she was right. Zarkon was a terrorist, a ruthless leader of a group of criminals. He wouldn’t stop until every country was crushed under his thumb.

“Suppose I do fund your little operation,” the president said, resting his forearms on the desk. “What do you have in mind?”

“Reform the Voltron Force Special Ops,” Allura said. “The previous Voltron Force were heroes; they saved countless countries from oppression.”

“Before they got killed,” the president mentioned.

Allura decided to ignore that and continued. “I have already compiled a list of possible recruits; we want a team with specific skillsets, only the best of the best. With my leadership and the funding of the Balmeran government, we will be able to deal a huge blow to the terrorist regime.”

The president considered that. It was true that the previous Voltron Force had been legends; they were more efficient than an army, some said. If the Force were to be reformed, with new recruits and new technology….this could actually be plausible.

“Who do you have in mind?”

Allura smiled tightly. “That is classified information, I am afraid, but in good faith I will show who I want to lead the operation.”

She reached into the dark-colored folder that rested on her lap, withdrawing a stack of documents. She paged through the papers, withdrawing a file from the rest. The president took the file, flipping it open.

His eyes widened. “Him?”

“It is my belief that he will be a great asset to the team,” Allura said. She’d known nobody would react well to this, but she also knew he was the best option.

“Are there any other possibilities? He cannot be trusted; you know what happened to him and his crew…”

“I do know,” Allura said firmly. “I also know that he is the most qualified for the position. His combat skills are unmatched, his leadership skills are the best you could ask for, he’s cool under fire. He is nonnegotiable.”

The president fixed her with a stare as he flipped the file closed and returned it to her. “You do realize, I hope, that the future of the world rests on who you choose for the new Force?”

Allura’s gaze was steady. “I do realize. And that is why I am choosing who I am choosing. They are the world’s final hope.”

The president sighed. “Very well. I will fund your operation, on the terms that _I_ hold the executive power over the actions of your Voltron Force. If I deem it prudent to disband them and halt all further operations, you will do so immediately and without hesitation. Do I make myself clear?”

Allura beamed. “Crystal.”

It wasn’t that she was _lying._ But if the president came between the Voltron Force and saving the world, well....Allura wasn’t above tweaking a few rules. Especially when the future of the world hung in the balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is inspired by lowaharts artwork, which you can find at tumblr.com
> 
> It is also inspired by the awesome song Soldier by Fleurie.
> 
> Thank you for the support y'all! Don't forget to support the above artists as they are both fantastic people with incredible talent!!
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter! The next one will be longer I promise!!


	2. Recruits Part 1: Bumblebee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey hitting y'all with angst right at the beginning. I mean angst is my thing, so....

He stood in the midst of a thundering crowd. Their bellows beat down on him; he thought he might go deaf from the sound.

Blood trickled from a cut across his face. His right arm hung limp and useless, blood streaming from a terrible wound on his shoulder, an open gash that cut almost halfway through the meat of his upper arm. The blood dripped onto the ground, clumping into the sand as the crowd bellowed their approval.

_Champ-ion! Champ-ion! Champ-ion! Champ-ion!_

* * *

Gray eyes snapped open and he shot upright, gasping. His heart hammered in his chest, and his fists bunched in the blankets. _Breathe_. He did, sucking in an exhale through his nose and forcing it out his mouth. It seemed to take forever before his heart finally slowed, before his fists could unclench.

His eyes moved to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 0500 hours. Still at least an hour before he had to start the day, but there was no way he would be getting to sleep now. Not after that nightmare. That memory.

He hauled himself to his feet, immediately straightening the covers, tucking and folding automatically, mechanically. He went through his morning routine, focusing on the menial tasks; if he didn’t think he didn’t remember.

Lunges, sit-ups. Push-ups, planks. He brushed his teeth. He ran a comb through his hair. He pulled a shirt over his head, put on a pair of worn sweatpants.

Breakfast was coffee and eggs. The same as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Routine. It kept the shadows at bay, the demons that hid in the corners of his mind.

His name was Takashi Shirogane, and he had more demons than most.

Shiro sipped his coffee, making a face at the bitter taste. He probably could have put in some more sugar, but it was too late now; he had already drained the mug.

With a sigh he rinsed the mug out and placed it on the counter. It was about time for his morning jog.

Shiro liked running. It was….freeing. When he ran, he didn't have to think about standing on a sandy floor, blood running down his face and his arm. When he ran he didn't have to remember. He could just let his mind focus on his body, the crisp clearness of the morning air almost searing his lungs, the sunrise in the east that painted the sky orange and pink.

The morning was cold, but after Shiro had been running for a while, after his blood started moving, it wasn't uncomfortable at all; in fact, it was downright pleasant.

Mornings like this made him think that maybe it wasn't such a bad business, being alive.

Of course, if he had learned anything from past experience, it was that nothing ever stayed pleasant and cheerful.

Shiro should've known the moment he breathed in the cool morning air, the moment he felt a small flicker of hope, that everything would go sideways. After all, it always had.

He should've known. But he didn't.

As Shiro turned into his street, jogging down the sidewalk toward his home, he stopped short.

A sleek silver vehicle sat in the street right outside his house. A young woman no older than Shiro himself leaned casually against the driver's side.

She was gorgeous. There was no other word. Wavy white tresses tumbled down her back, but her smooth unblemished skin was dark; it was a beautiful contrast.

She wore a long silver tunic that reached mid-thigh and pale pink leggings that disappeared into silver boots.

Despite her breathtaking appearance, an alarm bell rang in Shiro's mind. Who was she? And what was she doing in front of his house, looking like she was waiting for him? And, more importantly… what did she want?

He didn't want to approach, but he couldn't just stand on the sidewalk all day. Steeling himself, he continued up the sidewalk at a brisk jog, hoping she wouldn't talk to him if he appeared busy.

He stepped onto his tiny front lawn, overgrown with weeds, with the full intention of going inside and slamming the door shut tight, but she called out to him, her clear voice breaking the early morning silence.

"Are you Takashi Shirogane?"

Shiro paused and turned; now that she had initiated a conversation he would need to stay unless she did or said anything threatening.

He cleared his throat. "Who's asking?"

The woman pushed herself off the car and stepped toward him, reaching out a hand for him to shake.

"Allura of Altea. I have a proposal for you, Takashi, if you're interested." She had a strange accent, one he couldn't quite place; it made her sound regal and elegant.

"What… kind of proposal?" Shiro's voice was wary; he ignored the hand. The way she held herself, the way she spoke…this woman was military.

Allura slowly withdrew her hand, still smiling. "I am putting together a team," she said. "And I want you to lead it."

Shiro was turning and walking away almost before she had finished speaking. He was _done_ with the war, _done_ with the military. He didn't want to be a part of any team, much less lead it.

"I don't do combat anymore, Miss." His voice was dry, the words coming automatically. "Those military folk have made it quite clear they don't want me."

After Shiro had escaped from the terrorists that had held him captive for nearly a year, the military hadn't wanted him. They didn't trust him, thinking he was a spy for the terrorists. They'd thrown him, a lost amputee soldier, out of their ranks.

Shiro had lost everything when he had been captured by the Galra terrorists. His former team prisoners or dead, his arm gone, an entire year of his life stolen. But when the military kicked him out…he'd lost his spirit. He wasn't going to go back; not if they came crawling to him on their knees.

"It seems wrong, doesn't it?" Allura said, and though her voice was soft it made Shiro stop in his tracks.

The woman continued. "You were the best soldier in your squadron. You were a qualified leader, strategist, and fighter. The world _needs_ that."

Shiro swallowed. "What do you want?" His voice was hoarse.

Allura stepped around Shiro to face him; he hadn't realized she had been moving closer.

"Have you heard," she said, "of the Voltron Force?"

Of course he had. Everyone had heard of the legendary squadron, the miniature army that belonged to no particular government but took down terrorist organizations and corrupt governments around the world. The squadron that had met their end defending the country of Altea with their final breaths.

"The Galra won't stop," Allura continued, her blue eyes glinting. "They won't stop until every country is under their control. And so I am reforming the Voltron Force. I am choosing from several different fields, several different skill sets. Only the best of the best. And I want you to lead them."

Shiro's gray eyes were wide, his mouth working. Reform the Force? Against the Galra? She wanted him to lead. She wanted _him_ to lead.

"I'm guessing I wasn't your first choice?" 

No military leader in their right minds would recruit him; the others must have declined. What if he did, too? Were there any other candidates behind him? What if he was the last one, and his refusal would mean the downfall of the free countries? What if he was the world's last hope?

"No," Allura said, "you _are_ my first choice."

Shiro hadn't been expecting that. Nor was he expecting the surge of hope in him, or the thoughts that ran through his mind at that.

He didn't even dare to think that his time had come, to stop living in limbo, to get out and do something. Maybe if he was in the fight… he could stop remembering. He could maybe even find a way to feel again. Even with those thoughts and that hope, he hesitated.

"What…what do you have in mind?"

* * *

The easy listening music rose above the sound of clinking metal as he tinkered beneath the undercarriage of the humvee. He hummed along, singing a few words that he knew and mumbling the rest under his breath as he worked.

It was his happy place, here under a car. He had an easy job at the Garrison. Some younger cadet ruined a simulation? Some military vehicle needed fixing? He was their man.

Even if he hadn't needed the money so badly, he still would have likely been there, tinkering away. Mama was a mechanic; and Mama's father, and Mama's father's mother. It was a family tradition, and he loved it.

He checked his watch, the face almost as smeared with oil as his large hands. He'd need to clean it again. But he could still see the time just fine; 1100 hours. One more hour until lunch, then off to his other job at the bakery. Then his third job, at the Garrison just like his job now, cleaning. If he hurried at that one, he thought, he could make it home before 2100 hours tonight.

His name was Hunk Garrett, and his mom was dying.

Breast Cancer. Stage Three. Not fatal, not yet, but treatments were far too expensive; the tiny machine shop and bakery Mom and Mama ran from their small house in California just wasn't bringing in enough income to pay for the bills, the checkups, the chemotherapy, the radiation.

And so Hunk worked. Every time he received a paycheck, he sent everything he could home to California to help support his mothers, to help pay for Mom's medical bills. Even so, they were barely getting by. He would work seven jobs, even eight if he had to, but it was impossible as he was already pushing his limits at three; he only got about five hours of sleep per night, and he couldn't keep going on like this.

Hunk would, though. For Mom. For as long as he had to.

He was broken from his thoughts by someone clearing their throat somewhere above him; it was quite loud, and Hunk realized they must have been trying to get his attention over the music.

 _Whoops_.

"Hang on, I'm coming out!" He braced his hands on the undercarriage and pushed, rolling out from beneath the car.

He scooped up his remote control and clicked, pausing the music and rising to his feet.

Two people stood there, a young man and a young woman. The man was solidly built, one of the few people actually _taller_ than Hunk; though he had the guy beat in width and muscle. He had a black undercut with a white floof of hair for bangs.

The woman was lovely; a few heads shorter, lean and muscular; she looked like a superhero. Like Wonder Woman, Mom's favorite. Her hair was pulled into a braid, the white locks and her bright blue eyes a stunning contrast with her dark skin. 

"H-how can I help you?" Hunk stammered, fully aware that he was covered in grease and grime. Now was not the best time for visitors!

The woman smiled. "Are you Hunk Garrett?"

Hunk shifted his weight. "Uhh, yeah. Am… am I in trouble?" Hunk wasn't a troublemaker, but with a friend like Lance or Pidge…he could be easily thrown in with their shenanigans. Heaven forbid the two ever meet.

"No," the woman chuckled. She extended a hand. "My name is Allura of Altea."

Hunk tried to discreetly wipe his dirty hand on his coveralls before gingerly shaking her hand; her grip was firm.

"And this," Allura said, releasing Hunk's hand and gesturing to the man beside her, "is Takashi Shirogane."

"Just Shiro is fine," the man said, offering his hand; Hunk took it before realizing it was hard and cold. The guy had a _metal arm._ Pidge would _freak_ if he knew; the little dude loved everything electronic or technology.

"Nice to meet you," Hunk said. "Cool arm. Is it quintessence-powered?"

Shiro blinked gray eyes at him.

"...yeah. Yeah, it is."

After Shiro released his hand, Hunk shoved his hands in his pockets.

"So what can I help you with?"

Allura smiled. "Hunk, I am putting together a team, and I want you on it."

Hunk blinked. A team? For what?

"I am looking for someone with a specific set of skills, and you were recommended," Allura continued.

"Skills like… cooking? Fixing cars? That's all of my skills worth mentioning."

Allura shook her head. "A talented mechanic with an eye for machinery. Someone like _you_."

Hunk swallowed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "Look, I'm flattered and all, but why don't you go to my friend, Pidge? He's one of the techiest geniuses I know."

"Pidge Gunderson was one of the people who recommended you, Hunk," Shiro said. "We were searching for good candidates and he said you would be the best for the job."

"Well, what's the job?"

"I need you to join a team of professionals to engage in military endeavors," Allura said. "As you will mainly be the mechanic and the technical support, you will not be seeing much combat; however, it is still a distinct possibility that you may need to fight."

Hunk swallowed. "I… I don't know, I'm not really a huge fan of fighting, or, you know, danger in general…"

Allura's face softened. "I understand. But please know that for your efforts, millions of lives will be saved, and you will be paid a substantial amount for your risk."

Hunk hesitated. "How… how much?"

"At least seven hundred units per week," Shiro said. "Probably more as the operation goes on."

Hunk nearly fell over, his mind whirling with the number.

Seven hundred a month was nearly _twice_ his current wage, even with three jobs. Seven hundred a month could support his parents, pay for his mom's treatments, maybe even buy Mama a new car; their old one was so beaten up it needed repairs almost monthly, but they didn't have the money to buy another. With that kind of pay… 

He could give his moms the life they deserve. An easy life with a nice car and a nice house, no cancer or mortgages or loans. He could help his moms so much with that kind of money.

"Think on it," Allura said, interrupting his wild blur of thought. She handed him a small card, with a name and number printed in shimmering silver letters. "Call me by the end of the week and notify me of your answer."

They turned to go, Allura waving cheerily and Shiro also raising a hand in farewell.

Hunk returned the gesture, almost automatically; his stomach was churning, and his head was spinning.

If he accepted he might have to fight. He might have to see combat; though he was trained for it he never liked hurting people or getting hurt. Combat was scary. And he had a chance to run right into it.

Millions of lives could be saved, Allura had said. _Millions_. His moms could be free to live the life they deserve to live.

He resolved to think about it, mull it over; but in his heart Hunk already knew he was going to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I am super excited and optimistic about this fanfiction, so hang on! It's going to be a wild ride (I hope!!)
> 
> For everyone wondering, in this alternate universe Hunk is friends with both Lance and Pidge (undercover as a boy), but Pidge and Lance do not know each other at this point. They just have a mutual friend in Hunk :)
> 
> Almost everyone is also aged up a few years. Pidge is in her very late teens, Hunk, Lance and Keith are in their early twenties, and Allura and Shiro are around their mid/late-twenties. Coran is thirty or forty, so roughly the same age as in canon.
> 
> Also Hunk at the end!! What did we do to deserve him? Such a Pure Boy I love writing him so much!!! I can totally see him doing something for such a noble cause! 
> 
> And yes, the "bumblebee" is a reference to their colors :)


	3. Recruits Part 2: Christmas Lights

The room was dark, lit only by a blue laptop screen. She hunched in front of the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. Her glasses reflected the light, shining an opaque blue-white. Honey-colored eyes scanned over the information on the screen, her frustration mounting as she hit yet another dead end.

It had been the same yesterday, and the day before. Dead end after dead end after dead end. The days after the “incident” that resulted in the loss of two soldiers and a researcher had stretched into weeks, then months; and now it was more than a year since it had happened. And she was still no closer to the truth than she was then.

An incessant ringing broke her from her bubble of concentration; she picked up her scroll, a wafer-thin tablet of metal that served both as a communications device and a sort of miniature computer. She swiped a finger across the screen, accepting the call.

“Cadet Gunderson?” The voice was gruff and deep; Commander Iverson, her commanding officer and one of her instructors at the Garrison.

“Yes, sir?” Her voice was higher pitched than most of the male cadets, even with her speaking deeper than her normal voice. Things like that couldn’t be helped.

“You are to report to the head office immediately. You have visitors.”

“What?” She blurted, surprise overriding her ability to hold her tongue. “Who?” There was only one person who might come visit her, and they didn’t even know she was here.

“If I were in a less forgiving mood, boy, I would punish you for insubordination. But as I am feeling merciful, I will forget the interruption on the condition you report here at once.  _ Pro populo, _ Cadet.”

_ “Pro patria,  _ sir,” she replied, completing the phrase.  _ For the people, for the country. _ It was the Garrison’s motto.

Iverson ended the call with a click, and the sudden silence resounded through the room.

She sat back, head spinning. Who could these visitors be? After that incident, more than a year ago, she was left with nobody but her mother, who she hasn’t spoken to or even seen in nearly nine months.

The only friend she had was working, and he wouldn’t formally come to the Garrison as a “special visitor” anyway. He was a student, after all; he could just walk in through the campus.

So who was it?

She resolved that the only way to find out was to go see; not to mention that Iverson would have her head if she disobeyed him.

Again. But of course he didn’t know that she was technically a traitor to the Garrison, and in extension, her country. He didn’t know that her name was not Pidge Gunderson, or that she wasn’t even a boy.

Her name was Katie Holt, and she was looking for her family.

She still went by Pidge, though; it had been her nickname given to her by her older brother, and though it had annoyed her at the time she had to admit it had its uses. She responded to the nickname just as she responded to her actual name, which made creating a new identity surprisingly easy. The hardest part was the locker rooms and the showers. All of the male cadets shared a communal locker room and shower area, which offered quite a challenge to Pidge. She showered only at night, when few people were around, and always changed inside a stall, claiming to be insecure about her skinny, feeble frame compared to some of the other, more muscular cadets. Even so, it was a risky business.

Of course, in terms of male physique she  _ was _ skinny, and she wasn’t exactly above average size for her age, but Pidge reasoned that she would probably be one of the strongest female cadets; she was wiry and surprisingly tough. She wasn’t skin and bone as Iverson liked to shout during training exercises, but skin and muscle.

With a sigh, Pidge pushed away from the desk, snapping her laptop closed and slipping her scroll into her pocket. She placed her laptop underneath the desk, where the pull of the metal underside attracted the powerful magnets she’d installed inside her laptop. Hunk had helped her take apart the laptop and put in the magnets, though there had been quite a bit of dithering and hand-wringing involved. The poor guy just wasn’t cut out to be rebellious; he was about ninety-five percent of Pidge’s impulse control. But sometimes she could convince him to do something just a  _ smidgen _ illegal. Like installing magnets in her laptop so she could hide the device where her superiors would never find it, as the only electronic devices allowed for cadets were their scrolls. She couldn’t use her scroll to search for her father and her brother, though; they were closely monitored by the Garrison tech staff. So it had to be an outside device.

Pidge left the room, confident that nobody would find the laptop. Nobody ever thought to check the underside of the desk; and even if they did, the laptop would likely blend in with the metal surface anyway.

She left the tech building and walked the familiar pathways of the massive, sprawling Garrison complex; there was an entire collection of buildings dedicated solely to cadets, with dormitories, a cafeteria, and classrooms; housing for the teachers and officers; barracks and cafeterias for full-fledged soldiers; hangars and garages; shooting ranges; and training gyms.

She reached the main building, which contained offices for the commanders. She had been here before, though she hadn’t been a cadet at the time.

Pidge still remembered the way to Iverson’s office; it was strange, coming here without disabling cameras and avoiding people. Instead, she snapped sharp salutes to those she passed, striding to Iverson’s office.

She rapped lightly on the metal door.

“Come in,” Iverson’s gruff voice ordered. Pidge did, closing the door behind her. As she entered, Iverson rose from his chair and left the room, giving the people within privacy to converse.

Two people stood there, a man and a woman. They were both tall, towering above her, but she wasn’t very intimidated by that;  _ everyone _ towered above her.

“Hello, Cadet Gunderson,” the woman said, extending a hand. “I am Allura of Altea.”

Just like that, Pidge recognized her; she was the woman to whom Pidge had recommended Hunk, after she had overheard Allura asking an officer about skilled mechanics. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

Allura beamed and gestured to the man. “This is my associate, Takashi Shirogane.”

Pidge’s vision tunneled.  _ Takashi Shirogane. _ He was one of the soldiers who had been with her brother and father when they crashed in Galra-occupied territory. Nobody would help her or answer her questions, but  _ he _ might. He was a lead.

Pidge mechanically shook his hand, but her mind was spinning so wildly she nearly missed the fact that he had a cyborg arm. She wasn’t  _ that _ out of it, though.

“Whoa!” She yelped, making Shiro startle. “That’s a cyborg arm! It looks like it’s quintessence-powered, but how do you recharge it? Maybe there’s a port that you have to plug in...oh! I bet it’s a crystal! Crystals don't need to be recharged, they’re naturally renewed by quintessence, making them efficient power sources. What material is that? It would have to be malleable to serve as a limb, but strong enough to withstand the quintessence…” She trailed off, mind spinning with the possibilities.

“It appears we have found the right person,” Allura said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

That broke Pidge out of her reverie. “Right person for what?”

“I am putting together a team of remarkable individuals,” Allura said, “with special skill sets specific to the job in mind. We need a top-of-the-line hacker and technological genius to monitor communications and technological offense and defense. We are certain that you are our best choice.”

Pidge hesitated. She had to find her father and Matt; she couldn’t go off on jobs. On the other hand, Shiro was in on this; maybe he could help her. “What’s the job?”

“We are forming a special squad to embark on special missions,” Allura said. “I’m afraid the exact purpose of these missions is confidential, but I can tell you that you may be forced to engage in combat if the need arises. I am aware that you have had sufficient training for combat, but I am also aware that your specialty lies in technology.

“You don’t have to decide today,” Allura continued, pressing a card into Pidge’s hand. Silver lettering shimmered against the white. “Contact me by the end of the week with your decision.”

She brushed an invisible speck from her uniform. “Thank you for your time, Cadet. I hope to see you soon.”

She and Shiro turned to leave, the latter’s gaze lingering on Pidge. His expression was unreadable, but his gray eyes flickered with something. Recognition? Suspicion? Before Pidge could fully analyze, the two people were gone.

Her mind whirled. Take on a special mission with a special squad. If her experience proved anything, it was that “special” was a codeword for “dangerous.” Pidge might have to see combat, something she had never planned on doing.

But she could also find her family. Shiro was the only real lead she had, and he was working with Allura. If Pidge didn’t take this chance, she would never be able to question him. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened during that year, but if she could get to know him, get close to him… 

What were her options? She could say no. She wouldn’t have to face combat. She wouldn’t have to participate in a mission that must be so incredibly dangerous if it required a specialized squad. But she would lose her only lead to her father and brother.

Or she could accept. She would go on a very dangerous mission, with people who were probably just as dangerous. She could willingly enter combat. And she could maybe, just  _ maybe _ find her family. She could find them and bring them home.

With options like that, there wasn’t a choice. Not really.

* * *

Metal flashed silver as the training gladiator stumbled back, a knife hilt protruding from its chest. Another gladiator approached from his left, long staff spinning almost faster than his eyes could track. He dropped to the ground, sweeping his legs in an arc.

The gladiator hit the ground, another knife flying from his fingers and slamming into its forehead a split second later.

Two more gladiators appeared, rushing in at the same time. He whirled, silver flashing in his hands; metal sang against metal, and the gladiators were on the ground, their chest panels torn open from the blades.

Fallen gladiators surrounded him, wires sparking and mangled metal lying in twisted heaps. He stood in the center of the rubble, a lone tree in a fallen forest.

His face gleamed with sweat, his chest heaving. Damp strands of inky hair had escaped his ponytail, and were now framing his face.

He exhaled, bending to retrieve his knives. With a sharp yank he pulled them one by one from the smoking metal of the fallen gladiators. 

His knives were unique; they had no equal. They were made from scaultrite, one of the rarest metals in the world. They were nearly indestructible, and could cut through just about anything. He had had several people offer to trade for them, but they were priceless; and he would never,  _ ever _ give up the last thing he had of his family.

He sighed, flicking his wrists; the last two knives disappeared into the sheaths on his forearms with a soft click, ready to pop out into his hands at a moment’s notice.

A small crowd of spectators had gathered to watch, as usual; he was the most talented fighter in the Garrison, and everyone wanted a chance to see him in action. As he stepped out of the training room, the cluster of younger cadets parted, erupting with whispers. He caught snatches of words as he passed, though he gave no sign of hearing them.

“Twelve gladiators at once…”

“A new record…”

“Did you see…”

“That last move…”

“Like in an action movie…”

He ignored the whispers, like always, and strode down the hallway. The crowd of cadets fell behind him, the whispers fading as the group dispersed.

He didn’t like using the cadet training gym, but it was better than the one reserved for soldiers and officers. He’d take a crowd of chatty, wide-eyed teenagers over those lying snakes any day. He’d wanted to enlist in the army, to become a soldier. He’d wanted to serve his country, risking his life to fight the terrorists that threatened the peace and safety of all.

The Garrison had had another idea. After seeing his stealth, his skill with weapons, particularly blades and martial arts, they had decided to pull him out of the army. And they had put those skills to use.

Infiltration. Assassination. He was the best in his field at only age nineteen.

He had to admit they were right; the army wouldn’t have been right for him. But he didn’t think his current field was right for him, either.

He didn’t trust the Garrison. For all of their talk of unity and loyalty, of  _ pro populo, pro patria, _ for the people, for the country, they were just a crowd of liars and cheaters. They sent soldiers into battle, into certain death, without batting an eye, without lifting a finger to get them out. His brother, the only family he had, had disappeared and they didn’t give a damn.

That’s how the Garrison was. They pretended to be all righteous and noble, but if someone wasn’t important to their end motive...they just didn’t care. And if anyone tried to speak up, to tell the country about the Garrison’s lies….they disappeared.

He knew. He was the one to make them disappear.

His name was Keith Kogane, and he didn’t trust anybody.

Except for one. Shiro. His brother in everything but blood. Shiro had escaped from the Galra months ago, appearing in the desert outside of an allied encampment, several miles away from the facility where he had been held. His right arm had been useless, completely dead.

They’d shipped him here, where they built him a new arm and “honorably” retired him, under the claims that he had done more for the country than any soldier had before.

Keith knew the truth, though; anyone with a brain did. They didn’t trust Shiro. They thought he had turned, that he was a spy.

Keith  _ knew _ Shiro. He knew that no matter what the Galra did to him, no matter what happened, Shiro would  _ never _ join them. Fighting the Galra was everything to Shiro; saving people from their oppression, liberating countries from their tyranny. Shiro had been one of their most loyal and dedicated soldiers, and they had discharged him.

Keith felt the familiar anger rising; he exhaled and forced it out as he exited the building, into the blinding noonday sun.  _ Anger is an unstable emotion, _ Shiro would say.  _ Instability leads to downfall. _

Even when he wasn’t around, his brother’s annoying wise words still hounded Keith’s thoughts. With a pang, Keith realized he missed him. He hadn’t talked to Shiro in days; they’d both been busy with their own things, he supposed. He vaguely wondered what his brother had been up to.

Keith never would have guessed the answer. But as he rounded the corner, he ran right into Shiro. Rather, the person with him.

The woman nearly toppled over, but Keith’s reflexes were quick; he gripped her shoulders, keeping her steady.

“Thank you,” she said, regaining her balance. “I’m quite all right now….”

She was about four inches taller than Keith, her white hair cascading down her shoulders and nearly reaching her hips.

“Keith!” Shiro exclaimed, appearing behind the woman. “We were just looking for you!”

Keith blinked, indigo eyes flicking between the woman and his brother. “Uhh...you were?”

“Keith Kogane?” The woman asked, her curious accent unplaceable but yet vaguely familiar. “May we speak to you?”

Keith nodded reluctantly; he had no idea who this woman was or what she wanted, and his instincts told him to turn and walk away. Shiro’s presence grounded him, though; he would never do anything to hurt Keith.

“I am Allura of Altea,” the woman said. “I am forming a team of soldiers to complete a mission of utmost importance.”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Keith interrupted. “I’m not a soldier, ma’am.”

Allura regarded him, her intense blue eyes boring into him. “I think you are, Keith. Not all soldiers wear uniforms.”

“Just listen to what she has to say, Keith,” Shiro said. “Please.”

Keith exhaled. “All right.”

Allura continued. “I believe someone of your skill set would be invaluable to the team,” she said. “I have already spoken to your superiors, and they are willing to release you from their service so you may join my squad if you agree.”

“Wait, you’re not with the Garrison?” Keith had assumed that she was another officer, wanting to use his skills for their own personal gain.

“No,” Allura said. She straightened. “I am a representative of the Altean Alliance, the only remaining part of Altean culture. I am one of the last of my people, and my fight is not for the people of this country, but the people of the world.”

Keith pondered that. He’d heard of Altea, one of the only countries that was totally obliterated by the Galra terrorists. A punishment for their resistance. And a promise to any other country that tried to oppose them.

“Shiro? Are you involved in this?”

Shiro exhaled. “Yes. It’s for a good cause.” His gray eyes met Keith’s indigo. “Please think about it, Keith. We need you. The world needs you.”

Keith considered, his thoughts churning. This was almost certainly a squad meant to directly fight the Galra, something Keith had been training to do for years. But that was a dangerous, deadly mission. It had to be; why else would they be handpicking their soldiers?

He could leave the Garrison. He could be freed from their orders, their missions, their lies.

Shiro was going to be a part of this squad, this team. He was going to go fight the very people who had imprisoned him for a year, who had subjected him to who-knows-what kind of hell. Keith couldn’t let him face them alone. He couldn’t let his brother stand alone against them. His reply rang out, loud and clear.

“I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about some Pidge and Keith angst, eh? Why am I like this.....
> 
> To explain the chapter title, I was trying to keep up the trend of having a title that implies the colors of the Paladins being recruited in that chapter, but I couldn't think of anything else that was red and green. Please don't sue me I tried.
> 
> I am beyond excited to have everyone come together. The gang will begin their adventure soon!!! :)
> 
> Thank you so much for the support you all have given me! Y'all are pretty cool!!
> 
> Peace and love, y'all!! See you next time! <3<3<3


	4. Recruits Part 3: Ocean and Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst train incoming. As if y'all expected anything different :)

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Choking smoke filled his lungs, stung his eyes, coated his throat and making him cough, a horrible hacking sound that just made his throat hurt more.

The flames were a living thing, roaring and alive, like a fairy-tale monster his mama would tell him about. Like a dragon, here to capture a princess.

The heat was so intense he thought he would melt. His skin was blistering, and he was so hot his skin seemed to crack.

The flames were so close now, he could feel them searing into him; his clothes were smoldering.

"Mama!" His terrified scream was swallowed by the roaring hellfire. He was crying, choked sobs that shook his tiny frame, tears that seemed to evaporate right off his face.

" _Mama_!"

* * *

Blue eyes shot open with a gasp, and he sat up, shaking so hard he couldn't clench his fists in the blankets.

The scars on his chest seemed to burn as he forced the memories of fire and heat away. 

Moonlight was streaming into the window, pale and silver across the floor. His roommate, James Griffin, was still out cold, quilts thrown over his head and soft snores emanating from the lump. The guy could sleep through a hurricane.

He exhaled and slid out of bed; he wouldn't be going back to sleep. Not without feeling the horrible, suffocating heat, or remembering the agony as his clothes caught fire, or his horrible screams as he writhed in pain, trying to put out the flames….

No. He couldn't think about it. Not then, hopefully not ever.

He reached under the bed for the loose board in the floor. Underneath was a pair of rubber-soled shoes, perfectly fitted to his feet. His climbing shoes.

He slipped them on, enjoying the familiar sensation of wearing something on his feet, yet still feeling light as air.

The window opened with a soft hiss, but he didn't worry about it too much; he would have to tap dance around Griffin's head wearing metal boots to make the guy even stir. Griffin slept like the dead.

He slipped out the window, leaving it open just a crack as he hung out over the courtyard, three stories below.

Height didn't bother him, not in the slightest. Height was only a problem if he fell. And he never, ever fell.

He began to climb, scaling the wall with ease, his fingers finding the familiar holds, the rubber soles on his shoes gripping the surface of the wall like a spider clinging to the ceiling.

Climbing took his mind from the dream, the memory. When he was climbing he didn't have to think about the choking smoke, the suffocating heat, the burning pain.

He had been only seven years old when the terrorists had invaded Cuba. Seven years old when his town had been bombed, when his house had burned to the ground. He and his sister and his mama had been the only ones to survive the blaze, out of his entire huge family. Papa, Marco, Luis, his wife Lisa and their unborn child, Pop-Pop, Rachel….all gone. The terrorists had killed them all.

His name was Lance McClain, and he was going to destroy the Galra.

For his family. For his town, his country, and all the others they attacked. He was enlisted in the sniper division, and as soon as they were deployed he would avenge them.

Lance reached the top of the dormitories, pulling himself up and over the wall and onto the flat roof.

Being stationed at the Garrison in Texas had its setbacks; the mosquitos, the dryness, and the heat. But it made up for itself for the flat rooftops, the lack of light pollution. He could sit and stargaze, and let his mind wander.

The crisp night air was a little chilly, but his jacket kept him warm, and so it was quite pleasant. The stars wheeled overhead, a canopy of scattered silver on inky black.

Lance tipped his head back, azure eyes slipping closed, and he just _breathed_. The cool air was refreshing, smelling faintly of rain and freshly turned soil. 

This was his favorite place at the Garrison, here on the roof. Other than the ocean back home and the shooting range across the street, this was the only place where he truly felt at peace, like he wasn't so alone.

Of course he had Hunk, Lance's best (and only!) friend at the Garrison. From everything Hunk said about his other friend Pidge, though, it sounded like Lance could have another as well; Hunk frequently said he thought they would get along just fine.

Unfortunately, their schedules were so different, with Lance at the shooting range or in the training gym, and Pidge off doing whatever tech support folks do, that they haven't yet had a chance to meet.

And so Lance had only caught glimpses of the little guy, walking across the courtyard or passing in the corridors.

Lance knew he was tall, but that kid was really _freaking_ tiny.

He was broken from his thoughts by the ringing of his scroll; he pulled it out, seeing Hunk's face on the screen.

He held the scroll up to his ear, tilting his head back to look at the sky.

"Hey, Hunk. What's up?" He was a little surprised Hunk was up this late; the poor guy was running on too little sleep as it was.

"Hey, Lance," Hunk said. "Sorry if I woke you up..."

"Eh, don't worry about it. I've been up for a while, actually."

"Don't tell me you're up top again?"

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't. You coming, big guy?"

A sigh. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Lance smiled. Good ol' Hunk. "See you in a bit, then."

He ended the call, lying back and resting his head on his hands. Hunk didn't climb, of course; the dude got nervous just watching _Lance_ do it. He usually came "up top," as they called it over scroll to keep the high-rankers out of the loop, via the old-fashioned way: the stairs.

Hunk would be a few minutes; his room was down the hall quite a ways from the stairwell to the roof, and he had to sneak out from under Pidge's nose; from everything Lance had heard, Pidge was usually up late.

Before long, though, Lance heard the door to the stairs creaking open and Hunk's voice floating through the crisp air.

"Lance? Where are you at?"

Lance sat up, lazily waving an arm. "Right over here, Hunk my man."

The larger boy settled down beside Lance. "I brought marshmallows," he said, pulling out a bag. "Pidge and I pooled our money. It's a shared bag, so don't eat them all; I still need to make sure he gets his part."

"What would I ever do without you, Hunk?" Lance exclaimed, gleefully accepting a handful of marshmallows.

"Probably get into more trouble, Lance," Hunk said.

Lance chuckled. "True," he said, through a mouthful of marshmallow. He swallowed. "So what's up?"

Hunk sighed, gazing up at the sky. "I….got a sort of job offer today. I don't really know if I should take it."

"Why not?" Lance asked, resting an elbow on his knee; just like that his cheerful, teasing demeanor dropped like a mask. "How well does it pay?" He was very aware of Hunk's mom's situation. He also knew how hard Hunk was working to help.

"Really good," Hunk said. " _Too_ good."

Lance frowned. "What….what do you mean?"

"It was offered by a couple of military people," Hunk said. "They said I probably won't be doing much fighting, but I will still be seeing combat and I might have to fight anyway. I just don't…"

"Oh, Hunk," Lance said softly, brushing the larger boy's arm with his own. He knew Hunk wasn't a fan of combat; his big heart made it hard for him to hurt people on purpose.

"I want to help my moms," Hunk said, squeezing his eyes shut. "And the people who talked to me… they said the mission would save so many people. I feel like I _have_ to go, Lance. I have a chance to save so many, and to help my moms, but… I'm so scared."

Lance was quiet, his azure gaze fixed on his friend's face.

"I'm scared," Hunk repeated. "I know I'm not good at fighting, and I don't like doing it! It's scary and people get hurt, and I just don't want to have to do that. I don't know what to do," he finished, sounding despondent.

Lance rested an elbow on Hunk's shoulder, leaning into his friend.

"You're one of the most compassionate people I know," Lance said quietly. "I know you'll make the right choice. I know that whatever you decide will be for the best."

Hunk leaned into him. "I hope you're right," he murmured. "Because I'm probably going to accept…. I just have to help my moms, you know?"

"What kind of mission is it? Did they approach you specifically, or was it like, a volunteer situation?" Lance was legitimately curious; it was rare for cadets, even those that were practically full-fledged soldiers like Lance and Hunk, to be offered a high-pay mission.

"They couldn't say too much," Hunk said, "but they said they needed a special team with special skills, and they were handpicking each member to join. It must be a pretty big mission. Important, too, if what the lady said is true."

"Really? They handpicked you? Hunk, that's _awesome_!" Lance pulled away to punch his friend's shoulder. "I _told_ you so! You're amazing at what you do! You were _bound_ to draw someone's attention!"

Despite his excitement for his best friend, Lance felt a pang. After Hunk left on his special mission….Lance would be alone. Of course, he could always track down Pidge and initiate a conversation, but without Hunk there, Lance doubted the small cadet would want anything to do with a loud, cocky dude from the sniper division. From everything Hunk had told him about Pidge, it was that the guy liked his space.

There was always his sister, Lance supposed. He and his only surviving sibling were both at the Garrison, though Veronica was in communications and intelligence, while Lance was a sharpshooter, a cadet aiming to be a soldier. She would probably be far too busy to talk much; she wasn't a cadet anymore, but a communications support; she handled comms and things like that from the command center, running messages for the commanders. She was a full-fledged member of the Garrison military, not half soldier and half cadet like Lance.

He just didn't want to be left alone.

Hunk broke him from his thoughts.

"Hey, man, I think it's getting late--er, early. It's 0200 hours; we should probably get back to our dorms."

"Yeah, okay," Lance said, past the lump in his throat. He reached into the marshmallow bag and grabbed one last handful. "Don't you leave without telling me, you hear? You can't go off on some adventure without saying goodbye to your best bud!"

"I'll remember," Hunk promised, and Lance believed him.

The larger cadet rose to his feet, stretching. "Man, I don't know how you and Pidge can stay up this late! I'm beat!"

Lance smiled and lightly smacked Hunk's calf with the back of his hand. "Go to bed. I think I'll stay out a little longer, though." He wasn't ready to close his eyes and face the inferno again.

"Make sure you get some sleep," Hunk said, his forehead creasing in his Concerned Friend look. "You may be a night owl, but you still need to sleep at some point."

"I know, I will," Lance mumbled, throwing the last marshmallow into his mouth.

"See you tomorrow?" Hunk stepped toward the stairwell.

Lance nodded and gave a thumbs-up; his mouth was full of sticky goo.

Hunk smiled and waved, and then he was gone.

Lance sighed through his nose and turned back to the night sky, a stunning light show of stars and constellations.

The quiet that had been peaceful was now lonely. Hunk's absence had turned the empty expanse of space above into a yawning abyss.

 _Better get used to it,_ Lance thought, feeling the press of tears. _That's my reality now._

He would be truly alone, with nothing but the cold, distant stars to keep him company.

* * *

Shiro leaned back against the wall with a sigh. He was in the Altean Alliance headquarters, the massive metal building serving as the command center for the future Voltron Force, as well as living quarters for Allura and her bodyguard and adviser, Coran.

He had spent much of his time in the building for the last few days, planning, strategizing, thinking of ways to best utilize the skills of the chosen operatives.

The three who had been previously scouted had all accepted the mission, but the Voltron Force was missing someone, an essential part of the team. Allura was having a hell of a time finding someone from the sniper division who had the necessary skills for what they needed.

Most of the cadets were too young, and those that were old enough weren't good enough.

But Shiro wasn't thinking about that. All he could think about was the short cadet, the one who had accepted the offer to become their tech support. Pidge Gunderson.

He was achingly familiar. His honey-colored eyes, his fluffy copper hair….Shiro had known someone like that, once.

He reached into his breast pocket, his fingers brushing the photograph inside. He pulled it out and stared at it, even though he had it memorized completely.

Four people, standing together, eyes sparkling with laughter.

A dark-skinned soldier wearing pilot gear had an arm around Shiro's waist, his glasses sliding off his nose, his face split in a stunning grin.

Adam. Shiro's fiance. He had died during Shiro's time in captivity, shot down over a Galra-occupied sector of Europe. There hadn't even been a body to recover.

On Shiro's other side was a short teenage boy, inky black hair curling around his ears, indigo eyes crinkling at the corners.

Keith. Back when Shiro was his legal guardian. Before Shiro disappeared and left his little brother at the mercy of the Garrison.

And next to Keith….

A tall boy with fluffy, messy copper hair. His eyes were closed in the photograph, squeezed shut as he roared with laughter, an arm around Keith's neck, but Shiro knew they were a light, golden brown. Like honey.

Matt Holt had been with his father Sam, both accompanying Shiro on a covert mission inside Galra territory.

Sam Holt was a scientist, a researcher; he had been aiming to gather intel on quintessence, the mysterious energy source that was the main target of the Galra invasions. Matt and Shiro were his protectors, the soldiers who were supposed to get them in and out.

He hadn't seen Matt or Sam in nearly a year, when they were separated to be transported to different prisons. Shiro had gone to the arena, but he never knew where his comrades had ended up.

For all he knew, Matt and Sam Holt were dead.

And now he found Pidge Gunderson, who looked like a younger, tinier Matt. They were definitely related. Pidge was almost definitely looking for his lost family members. And Shiro knew that he was Pidge's only lead. What that meant for him….he didn't know. And he didn't want to find out.

Not that he didn't want to help the boy; he wanted to find his comrades, his friends, more than anyone at the Garrison.

But if he tried to tell Pidge what he knew….he would remember.

And some things were probably best forgotten.

* * *

Allura rested her head in her hands, exhaling with a puff. There was nobody. Not a single person in the sharpshooting division so far who could aim.

Sure, they could shoot a target. But Allura needed more; she needed someone who could shoot better than anyone else. She needed the best. The world depended on it; the sniper could make or break a team.

She was leaning against the wall outside the shooting range; she had one more appointment. The leader of the sniper division had brought in every single older cadet who hadn't yet been tested. If she couldn't find anyone in this group….she could consider the Voltron Force finished before it even began.

 _Quiznack_. She desperately needed a sharpshooter. She inhaled, steeling herself, then strode through the doors.

* * *

It was a long day. Twelve cadets, all shooting from a vantage point half a kilometer away. Not a bad distance, but some of their shots were off by a hair.

Allura hated to be so stern, but she could only recruit the best of the best. Which made this even harder.

There was an old Jeep transporting cadets to and from the vantage points, huge trees growing every half kilometer or so. The entire shooting range was set on a massive, sprawling field, nearly a mile long.

There were two cadets left; James Griffin and Lance McClain. Allura admitted she wasn't very optimistic. The former had an ego the size of the entire Garrison, and the latter had been casually lounging around for hours, flirting with Allura and the other cadets and messing with the rubber targets and generally being a nuisance. Her choices appeared to be between an arrogant jerk with more hot air than the Hindenburg, and a flirtatious goof-off with the maturity of a kindergartner.

"Are we ready, sir?" Griffin's voice came over the comm the sniping commander had set up so he and Allura could communicate with the cadets.

"You're a go, Cadet Griffin."

Allura didn't hear the shots, but the holes in the targets appeared one after the other.

Only one had hit the very center; the rest were off by several inches.

It appeared that, for all of his arrogance, Griffin couldn't shoot any better than the cadets before him. Allura suppressed a sigh.

"Move off the field, Griffin. Make room for the next."

The next and final cadet's voice broke across the comms.

"This is Cadet McClain, moving into position."

"Cadet McClain," the commander said, "remember that this is a showing for a prospective mission. Stay focused."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

The commander frowned. "For your flippant attitude, you just doubled the distance. Tell the driver to take you back an entire kilometer."

Allura's eyes widened. A whole kilometer was ambitious. Impossible, even, considering the results of the other cadets. Just what was this man playing at?

The commander turned to Allura and winked.

"You're in for a treat," he said, too quietly for the cadet to overhear over the comms. "When this kid buckles down and gets serious….it's a sight to see."

So he hasn't actually been angry; he was looking for an excuse to show off his star pupil. Allura hummed, not entirely convinced. "We will see."

Another minute passed before the cadet's rang over the comms.

"In position a kilometer away, sir. Ready to begin."

Something had changed in his voice. Allura couldn't put a finger on it, but suddenly the light flippancy was gone, replaced by confidence and steel. It was a subtle change; had she not been paying such close attention she might have missed it entirely. Yet it sent a chill running down her spine; perhaps this cadet was different from the others.

"You're a go, Cadet McClain."

Even from a kilometer away, she saw the light reflect on the lenses of the scope, a brief flash of opaque white.

The bullets only made the slightest hiss as they cut through the air, meeting the targets head-on.

Allura stared in shock.

Every single one was dead center. Not a millimeter out of place.

"I...impressive," she managed, her throat dry.

"Cadet, how about a coin shot?" The commander asked into the comms.

"Affirmative, sir," McClain said.

"A coin shot?" Allura echoed, turning to the commander.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick coin, a quarter.

"Ready to see this, ma'am?"

Allura nodded slowly; she didn't think she could speak.

"On my mark, Cadet. Flipping coin in three… two… one… _now_!"

The commander tossed the coin into the air. There was a soft hiss, a metallic _ping_.

The quarter flew back, landing at Allura's feet. She picked it up; the metal was warm. And there was a dent in the very center.

"Well done, Cadet," the commander said. "Return, and we will announce results."

Allura didn't have to think to decide who to choose. She had found her sharpshooter.

* * *

"So..." Lance said, drawing out the word. "You want me to join your team of specialists. You want me to be your sniper."

He had had offers before; his shooting was legendary. But he wasn't signing on for missions, he wanted to be deployed as a soldier to fight the terrorists. It was why he hadn't been on this lady's radar; he laid low around people looking to recruit. But she seemed determined to find him. And now that she had done so, she was determined to not let him go.

"Yes," the gorgeous woman said, dipping her head. She had introduced herself as Allura of Altea, and she was a freaking goddess.

Lance leaned back against the wall, propping a leg up behind him. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not looking to join. I'm going to fight the Galra."

"That is precisely what you will be doing with me," Allura said, her intense blue eyes boring into him. "Up close and personal. I have already recruited all of the other members; the only missing piece was _you_. If you don't accept, I will be forced to recruit your fellow cadet, James Griffin. He was the second-best at the shooting range.

"However, your skills are simply remarkable. If you join you will receive substantial pay and your actions will save millions of lives. You will be on the squad that will be the main force against the Galra terrorists."

Lance's eyes widened slightly, his mind whirling. He could go fight the Galra, right here, right now. He wouldn't have to wait until he officially became a soldier; if he signed off with his lady on her squad, he could take down the terrorists and avenge his family. He could fight.

Lance stretched lazily, keeping his voice light. "Well, I am pretty busy, gorgeous, but I think I could squeeze it in. I accept." 

Allura nodded shortly. "Thank you, cadet." She reached into her jacket and retrieved a slip of paper, which she offered to Lance. "Be at this address at 0800 hours in two days' time." Her eyes were pools of blue fire. Her next words sent a thrill of anticipation down Lance's spine. "There, you will meet your new comrades, and your mission will begin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's starting y'all!!! The squad will soon be kicking some Galra ass together!
> 
> Lance's rubber shoes and climbing ability was loosely based off of Inej Ghafa from the Six of Crows book series by Leigh Bardugo. If you haven't read it I highly recommend it! It's probably my favorite series!
> 
> I have been so excited to write the sharpshooting scene! I've actually had it in my head for a really long time so I hope it turned out cool!
> 
> Thank you so much for the support! You make this such a rewarding experience!! Peace and love! <3<3<3


	5. The Gang's All Here

* * *

_ Head in the dust, feet in the fire _

_ Labor on that midnight wire _

_ Listening for that angel choir _

_ You got nowhere to run _

_ You wanna take a drink of that promised land _

_ You gotta wipe the dirt right off your hands _

_ Careful son you got dreamer’s plans _

_ But it gets hard to stand _

* * *

Lance looked from the address on the card to the building standing before him. He stood on the sidewalk, wearing his favorite jacket and regarding the location of the headquarters. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn’t somehow been transported to another planet, because there was no way the place was from Earth.

It looked like a castle, all elegant lines and twisting spires. The silver metal gleamed in the morning sun, making the entire place seem to glow.

If this was where Lance would have to live while he was on this mission, that was perfectly all right with him.

He inhaled and stepped up to the massive front doors. They swung open with a soft hiss as he reached them, allowing him access. Lance stepped through, and his jaw dropped. He stood in an enormous entrance hall, with a vaulted ceiling far above his head and sleek metal walls. Lights were set into the walls at regular intervals, casting the room a in pale blue glow.

“Someone  _ really _ spent their allowance,” Lance mused to himself as he strode down the hall. His quiet footsteps echoed around the room as he turned in a circle, taking in the breathtaking building. However beautiful it had been on the outside was  _ nothing _ compared to the interior.

He was broken from his thoughts by a cheerful shout.

“Lance! You’re here, too!” Hunk stood in the doorway, outlined by the outside light. As he stepped closer, Lance could see the enormous grin splitting his face.

“Hunk!” Lance threw an arm around Hunk’s shoulder in a casual embrace. “My man!”

Hunk chuckled, his booming laugh echoing. “I didn’t think I would find you here! Why didn’t you tell me she recruited you, too?”

“I only found out two days ago,” Lance explained, pulling away. “But I never thought we would be recruited by the same person! We’re on the same team!” He felt like he might burst from excitement. He and Hunk would be able to stay friends.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Lance,” Hunk said, clapping him on the shoulder. His eyes widened. “Oh! I should introduce you!” He hastily turned and pulled someone forward.

The boy was very short, the top of his head barely reaching Lance’s shoulders. He wore a green-and-white shirt and dark gray cargo shorts, and had a wild mess of copper hair framing a round freckled face. Glasses perched on the end of his nose, but he regarded Lance above the lenses with pale brown eyes.

“Lance, this is Pidge. Pidge, this is Lance.” Hunk intoned cheerily.

The two cadets shook hands.

“I’ve heard a bit about you, Lance,” Pidge said. “You like to swim, tease Hunk, shoot, and climb the walls of your dorm building in the middle of the night.”

Lance blinked in surprise. “How did you know about that?” He glanced at Hunk; while he didn’t think the boy would have snitched on him, he couldn’t think of any other way Pidge would know about it.

Hunk shook his head. “I didn’t tell him.”

“You sometimes climb in full view of the outer cameras,” Pidge explained, pushing up his glasses with a finger. “And since I regularly hack into those cameras, I’ve seen you a lot.”

Lance wasn’t sure he heard right. “You  _ hack _ into the Garrison cameras?” He was starting to like this guy.

“Yup,” Pidge said. “They have firewalls and protection, of course, but they don’t do much to keep me out.”

“We have  _ got _ to go hang out sometime,” Lance said. “We could like, toilet paper the teacher’s building!”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t want you guys to meet,” Hunk mumbled under his breath.

“Sorry, Hunk old buddy,” Lance said, bumping his shoulder with his elbow. “That’s what you get when you have friends like us.”

He and Pidge fist-bumped. Hunk sighed, casting his eyes heavenward. Oh dear.

Then, voices from another hallway caught their attention. Two people strode into the entrance hall, engaged in a heated conversation. The taller of the two broke off when he saw the assembled cadets.

The man was tall, taller than Lance, and solidly built. He wore a black shirt and dark pants, and his right arm gleamed oddly in the light. A pale scar ran across the bridge of his nose, and his black hair had a patch of white in the front.

The other was shorter than Lance, though not as short as Pidge. He wore a red jacket that reached his midriff and fingerless black gloves. His indigo eyes were guarded, and his hair was loose, reaching his shoulders.

Lance recognized him. The best fighter in the Garrison, with the highest score in all of the hand-to-hand simulations and the most kills on the field. Unfortunately, the guy didn’t seem to like anyone. He never spoke, never interacted with any of the other soldiers or cadets. It was weird.

“Hello,” the taller man said with a smile and extending a hand for Lance to shake. “I haven’t met you yet. I’m Shiro, your squad leader.”

Lance wasn’t surprised; the guy just  _ screamed _ leadership; from the way he held himself, the way he spoke.

“Lance McClain,” Lance said, giving the guy’s hand a shake. Shiro’s grip was firm.

Shiro glanced at the boy next to him, raising his eyebrows. “Introduce yourself.”

The guy huffed. “Keith,” he said shortly. He didn’t offer a hand, but Shiro apparently decided that was enough.

“I see that everyone has arrived! Excellent!” The clear voice echoed through the room; a woman stood in the doorway leading farther into the building. Allura, Lance remembered.

“Follow me to the command center,” Allura continued, “and we will begin.”

* * *

The command center was a large room with seats set in front of a control panel; though why a building would need a control panel that large, Lance had no idea. He had taken a seat on Hunk’s right, and Pidge was on Hunk’s other side. Keith was next to Pidge, and Shiro next to Keith. Allura stood in the center of the control panel, her back turned to the controls to face the assembled recruits.

A man with orange hair and a magnificent mustache stood at her side.

“Welcome,” Allura said, her voice clear and level. “You have all been chosen for this squad because of your exceptional skill in your specific field. I think you all for accepting my offer and joining what will soon become the most important strike force in the world.”

“My name is Allura,” she continued. “I will be the commander of your strike force; I will assign missions, and you will carry them out accordingly.” She motioned to the man at her side. “This is Coran, my trusted adviser. He will oversee the maintenance of your equipment, as well as offer his knowledge of engineering and machinery.”

She motioned for Shiro to stand. “Takashi Shirogane will be the head of this strike force. His skills as a soldier and a leader are invaluable.”

Shiro took a seat, nudging Keith to stand. He did so, looking uneasy to be in the spotlight.

“Keith Kogane is a master of combat, the best in his field. He will be the main offense operative.”

Allura moved on to Pidge. “Pidge Gunderson is an adept hacker and technological professional; he will be our main line of defense against technological warfare, as well as our tech and communications support.”

“Hunk Garret will be the leg on which we stand; his expertise in engineering, machinery, and heavy weaponry will be irreplaceable. His knowledge will hold the team up.”

“And Lance McClain will operate as our sharpshooter,” Allura said. “His finesse with long-distance weaponry will be our sole support in the field.”

Lance felt a prickle of excitement at that. He was going to finally have a chance to prove his previous commanders wrong. They always said he was a good shooter, but not a good soldier; he was too casual, too laid-back; he never took anything seriously enough. He would show them, though. He  _ could _ be a good soldier. He would prove it.

“I will now explain the mission you all must complete,” Allura continued. “Together, we will reform the legendary Voltron Force Special Ops Strike Team.”

Lance’s eyes widened, and the prickle of excitement turned into a thrill that ran down his spine. He knew of the Voltron Force. They were  _ legends. _ And he was about to carry that legend on.  _ I am  _ so _ glad I accepted this, _ he thought. He was going to be a member of the most famous squad of heroes known to man.

At Allura’s words, a ripple of murmurs passed among the assembled group, except Shiro, who must have already known. Allura raised her hands, and the whispering faded.

“Our overall objective,” she continued, “will be to liberate countries under Galra rule, take out Galra command centers, and ultimately topple the empire of terrorists. This will not be an easy task, nor will it be quick. By staying in this room you are signing up for what could be years of combat and missions; that being said, if you do not desire to continue, now that you know the purpose of this squad, you have this chance to leave. You will not be discharged or dishonored in any matter….and I truly cannot fault you for leaving.” She exhaled, her voice solemn. “I will not coat my words in sugar. This is a difficult task. Some say it is foolish. But for our efforts, millions of lives will be saved, and we will rid the world of the Galra terrorists forever.

“If you wish to back out, now is the time.”

Silence fell. Lance sat back, mind whirling. He’d known he would be fighting Galra….but to try and take down the whole regime? No wonder Allura had been looking for the best of the best. She’d need it. So what could Lance do?

If he stayed, he would be fighting until the empire toppled or he died. Whichever came first. That meant he could be here for years, maybe even decades. Could he put his life on the line for that long? 

What would happen if he didn’t? If he left? He would go back to the Garrison. He would become a soldier, a sniper in their army. One face in a sea of thousands of others. A number. A statistic. He would never get a chance like this again, to bring the fight to the Galra. For his family, for his papa and his brothers and sisters, he would fight. He would stay.

Lance stayed in his seat. Around the room, he could see the struggle in each person, even Shiro. He saw as their fears, their vulnerabilities flashed in their eyes, and then he saw the steely determination that mirrored his own.

Nobody rose from their seats. Nobody left.

Allura broke the silence. “Your service will be invaluable. I thank you all for your willingness to fight.” She stepped down from the control panel. “This building, the Castle of Lions, will be our main headquarters. It is fully equipped to sustain a small army, and so it will be more than enough for our needs. You will all receive a room, where you may keep your personal effects. For the next few years this Castle will be your home. I have arranged for your things to be brought from your rooms at the Garrison, and they should be arriving later today.”

“In the meantime,” Coran said, speaking for the first time, “I will be honored to show everyone around the Castle. Follow me, please.”

* * *

Lance sat in his room; or, what  _ would _ be his room, as his belongings from the Garrison hadn’t arrived yet. It was about the same size as his room back home, with a bed, a nightstand, a closet, and a porthole window overlooking the city. The door wasn’t a typical swinging door, like a normal house; rather, they were all sliding doors, like in a battle cruiser.

Porthole windows. Sliding doors. A control panel. Just what kind of building was this “Castle of Lions?”

He flopped backward on his bed, exhaling as his azure eyes slipped closed. His excitement was such that he could barely sit still.

He was a member of the Voltron Force, which still made his head spin wildly. He was going to fight the Galra and take them down.

His adventure was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardly any angst this chapter. Huh. Don't get used to it, y'all, it won't last :)
> 
> To fill the whump hole in my heart left by Red, I have started a very whumpy and angsty fic for Avatar the Last Airbender, called Shattered Hope, Broken Honor. (Y'all will NEVER guess who it's about lmao) I hope it'll make you cry :)
> 
> Because I am now working on two fics, I will update on Soldier a little less frequently. My hope is to alternate posting chapters for each one (ie: I just posted a chapter for Soldier, so my next chapter will be for Honor, etc).
> 
> Thank you so so much for the support! It has truly been a treasure to write for you!


	6. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**~~NOT A CHAPTER~~**

_Soldier_ will be going on hiatus for a few weeks until I can get the rest of the plot planned out and finish up some of my other projects. I'll see you all later!


	7. Takeoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mushu voice* I LIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVEEEE  
> Thank you so so so so much for your patience!!! It's def been a while....but here's another chapter for all you lovely muffins!! I know this fic hasn't had very much action yet, and I apologize for that, but I promise we will see some soon! The first mission will be happening in the next few chapters :) I love y'all lots <3<3<3<3

_“Hey, mamá.”_ _Lance was sitting cross-legged on a bed in a dimly lit room. Behind him the walls were silver with dark blue highlights, and the edges of posters were visible in the frame. Lance offered up his signature stunning smile, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling._

_ “You’ve been missing me, I can tell!” He seemed to sober, blue eyes dropping to the quilts. “I...I missed you, too. I saw your last message, about coming up for Christmas. I…” His brows came together, and he looked into the camera again. _

_ “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come like I’d promised. I-There’s a mission assignment that I’m on, and I don’t know how long it will take.” He ran a hand through his hair, making the dark brown locks stand on end. His eyes shifted to the side as he continued. “I can’t tell you what we’re doing. Confidential.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and looked into the camera. “But I hope I’ll make you proud.” He exhaled, picking at the edges of the quilts. “This...this is the only time I can contact you. We’re allowed one vid chat, then we go into radio silence. I just...wanted to let you know what’s going on, so you don’t worry when I don’t call anymore. I...I know you worry, mamá.” His voice cracked.  _ “Dios, _ I know you worry. I don’t want you to worry about me, okay? You’ve got enough to deal with,  _ mami.” _ He sighed, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll talk again when I can. My new CO will give us chances to contact family when possible, but it won’t be often.  _ Te quiero, _ mamá.” His lips curled up in a small smile. “Say hello to Veronica for me when you see her!” He was grinning now, raising a hand in a cheery wave. The screen went black. _

* * *

_ “ _ _ Mālō _ _ , Mom, Mama.” Hunk was sitting beside a round window, with warm sunlight streaming in and illuminating the room. From what was visible on the screen, the walls were silver highlighted with warm gold. Hunk was smiling, his face split in a wide cheery grin like the sun. “Did you get my last letter? Should be a paycheck in there. I know it isn’t much, but I’m doing what I can.” His smile dimmed, honey-gold eyes flicking to the side. “I think I found a way to help more. It’s a mission assignment, with a different group--not the Garrison. The money...it’ll really help. It’s a lot more than I’ve been earning before, so you don’t need to worry.” _

_ He leaned back, the smile fading completely. “I hope you’re okay without me there to help out, Mom. I know the treatments make you feel sick...I’m sorry I can’t do more. And Mama...I hope the bakery’s doing well. Sorry I can’t help with that, either.” Gold eyes flicked back up to the camera. “I won’t be able to call for...probably a while. We need to go on radio silence, as much as possible. I’ll still be able to send you money, but I can’t call. This...this is goodbye for now. I’ll come to visit as soon as I next have leave, okay? I don’t know when that is, but I’ll come!” _

_ A smile came across the young man’s face, brightening his features. “ _ _ Oute alofa ia oe, Mom, Mama. Stay safe.” His smile was gentle as the sun, warming his features and brightening the screen, even as his image faded to black. _

* * *

Pidge toyed with her scroll, honey eyes staring into space. One call. She could make one call to her mother, to explain everything. Why she ran away. Where she was. Why she was leaving. What she was looking for.  _ Who _ she was looking for.

When her husband and son were presumed dead, Colleen Holt was devastated. She didn’t want Pidge to go to the Garrison, not after losing half her family there. Pidge had to go, though. She couldn’t believe that her brother and father were dead; their pilot, Takashi Shirogane, was the best pilot, soldier, and commander that the Garrison had to offer--he was practically their  _ poster _ guy! There was no way the mission had failed in such a way as to end in the deaths of all three men. Something had happened to them. And Pidge was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if she had to go on a super dangerous mission to do it.

She sighed and slipped her scroll into her pocket. Colleen would try to stop her, she knew it. While it hurt, leaving her mother behind, thinking her last family member ran away from home, Pidge knew it was necessary.

She was going to find Matt and Sam. She was going to find her family and bring them home.

_ Whatever it takes. _

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Even though Keith was facing away from Shiro, polishing his knives, Shiro knew the question was directed at him.

He shrugged. “Same as you. Waiting for the rest of the team to finish up with their vid chats.” Neither he nor Keith had contacted anyone; the only family either of them had left was each other.

The latter glanced at Shiro, narrowing his violet eyes. “Not what I meant and you know it.”

Shiro tipped his head back against the metal wall. He had known what Keith meant; he just didn’t want to answer. He sat, mulling over his thoughts. What  _ was _ he doing here? Heading into combat again, facing the  _ Galra _ again...what was he trying to do? Trying to prove?

The only sounds were the musical ring of metal as Keith finished polishing his gleaming knives; he slid them all into their sheaths, then turned to face his brother, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t push, just waited for Shiro to be ready.

Finally, Shiro spoke, his voice soft and hesitant. “I...what happened to me was...really awful. I can’t even remember most of it, but...I wouldn’t want it to happen to anyone else.” He met Keith’s eyes, charcoal meeting lavender. “If Zarkon keeps doing what he’s doing, hundreds more people will have to suffer what I did, and more. I...If I have the chance to stop that, to stop  _ him, _ and I didn’t take it...what kind of person would that make me?”

Keith flicked his gaze away. “I know,” he murmured. “I just...worry about you.” Coming from Keith, those words were like a bouquet of flowers and a warm hug.

Shiro exhaled, lips quirking in a small smile. “I’ll be okay,” he promised.

They sat there, in companionable silence. Keith absently fiddled with one of his wrist sheaths, brushing a finger across the spring mechanism that shoots the knife into his hand. His throwing knives were something that Shiro had always been curious about. Keith had always claimed they came from his parents, before they left him at the age of seven. Shiro wanted to know who in their right minds would leave a seven-year-old a magnificent set of throwing knives and daggers made from the sharpest, strongest, rarest metal in the world. Keith had put them to good use, though; even before Shiro left on that fateful mission, he was one of the best field operatives in the Garrison.

The two young men were broken from their thoughts by Allura’s voice on the speakers.

“Please report to the bridge.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at that, rising to his feet. Everything in this odd building was referred to as if it were a ship or aircraft of sorts. It was strange.

He and Keith made their way to the “bridge,” meeting their new teammates on the way. Lance, the tall, tan boy with striking azure eyes, was bounding along, tugging Hunk along behind him. He never seemed to run out of energy, Shiro thought with amusement. Pidge trailed behind, fluffy copper hair disheveled as always.

They entered, and Shiro was struck again at the room. It was almost entirely made of glass, giving them a wide view of the area around them. He hadn’t noticed it earlier; he had been too focused on trying to get to know his new soldiers.

Allura stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the screens and control panels. At her side was Coran and two unfamiliar women. At the entrance of the team, Allura looked up and smiled.

“Let me introduce you to our engineers!” She turned to one of the women, tall with two long blonde braids. “This is Romelle!” She motioned to the other, a solidly built woman with short, spiky brown hair. “And this is Shay. They are both experts in the Castle of Lions and keeping it in prime condition! They assist Coran, and all are also field medics.”

There was a chorus of hellos, and the two women waved cheerily.

Romelle then turned to the team with a bubbly grin. “I suggest taking your seats while we take off! It can be a little bumpy.”

Take off? Just what did she mean by that?

A non-gendered voice rang through the room, from one of the control panels.  _ Commencing transformation.  _

Then there was a rumble from deep within the Castle, and the floor shifted. Shiro’s head snapped to the tall windows, and gaped. The tall spires of the Castle were shifting, moving down and sliding into place. The sections of metal, in blocks that Shiro supposed must be separate rooms, were moving down the spire, shortening and widening the structure. Echoing rumbles from around made Shiro realize the same was happening to  _ all _ the spires. The gasps and awed whispers from his team were drowned out by a deep rumbling directly below their feet.

_ Commencing takeoff sequence, _ the AI said.

The floor shifted alarmingly, and Shiro and the others stumbled to a seat, watching in rapt awe. And then they took off. Far below, the metal pulled away from the ground, sliding out of their foundations and slotting into place in the bowels of the building. The Castle of Lions was a ship. Shiro couldn’t believe it, even as he saw the world fall away below them to be replaced by clouds and sky.

Now the portholes, sliding doors, and terminology made sense. The building was built to be in the air.

Allura stepped from the control panel, chuckling at their expressions. “This is the pinnacle of Altean technology. It was developed and built in Altea, and it has no equal. The Castle of Lions was the headquarters of the previous Voltron Force, and so it will now be ours.” She beamed at them. “It was made to be in the air for long periods of time; we could stay airborne for more than a year without touching down once. It will be both our home and our transportation to mission sites.”

Shiro had known that Altea was far ahead in technology, but this...this was  _ magic. _

Allura continued. “We will be making our way to the site of our first mission. We will reach there by next evening, so I suggest you all rest for the evening. You will soon need to trust your teammates with your lives, so I suggest you get acquainted. Dinner will be held soon in the banquet hall.”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile. The ship taking off was probably the coolest thing he had ever witnessed.

And it was only the beginning of the adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lowkey based the Castle of Lions taking off scene from the Helicarrier scene in Avengers. You know the one :)
> 
> There was a bit of other languages happening in this chapter, as there are a few bilingual characters, so here are the (rough) translations:  
> Spanish:  
> Mami-mommy, momma (informal, affectionate term for mom)  
> Te quiero-I love you
> 
> Samoan:  
> Mālō-hello (informal)  
> Oute alofa ia oe-I love you
> 
> Please note that I have been using Google Translate for most of these, so the accuracy might be a little off. If I make a mistake please tell me so I can fix it! I am not fluent in either of these languages!! (we die like men) Any mistakes or misrepresentations are completely unintentional, and I do not want to offend or hurt anyone! If I do please tell me so I can fix the issue ;)
> 
> Self-promotion time!!! I am working on another Voltron fic, a Spider-Man/High School au called Power. It is the first work in a series called Power and Responsibility. It features Spider-Man!Keith, lots of platonic kidge, sheith, hidge, and hance, and some mutual pining klance ;)) Go check it out!!!
> 
> Thanks so much for being the awesome readers that y'all are!! I hope you're looking forward to the missions as much as I am because they're going to be fun :)
> 
> My updating schedule will be weird af moving forward, as I am juggling 3 fics around school and helping my mom with her condition, so bear with me ;)


	8. Some Assembly Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> team bonding and rivalries ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly gee it sure has been a hot minute hasn't it? Sorry about that!
> 
> This fic is kind of on the backburner, to write when I have free time, so that's why updates are slow.
> 
> I have created a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEJXuzcRLpH75z1bDX7TTQXVa-kUGnF34)  
> for this fic!! Song suggestions are welcome, and you can submit them to my Tumblr!
> 
> Speaking of which, I have created a new blog JUST for my writing! Many of my readers followed my personal blog, @angstyfangirl32, just for my writing, which meant there was a lot of unrelated clutter from me. To make it so y'all don't have to deal with that, I created another, where you can ask me questions, submit fanart or song suggestions or playlists, and get updates on fics old and new. You can find it [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/firedragonworks)
> 
> I am still very new to the fanfiction scene, so thank you all for your patience while I figure out the ropes! I'm sorry for the confusion!!

Keith was  _ not _ feeling the love. He wasn’t a “people-person” at the best of times, much less after years of being in his particular field. Assassins couldn’t trust anyone, not even their commanding officers. And so being thrown onto a silver building-turned-airship that looked like it belonged in a science fiction film with eight other people, most of them complete strangers, was  _ not _ how Keith wanted this job to go.

He wasn’t exactly sure  _ how _ he had wanted it to go, but he was certain that meeting a group of new people and immediately having to trust them all with his life was not what he had in mind.

Shiro, of course, was the only person he was completely sure he wanted to work with. Keith trusted Shiro more than anyone, and not just because he was the only person who had never let Keith down. Shiro was fast and strong, with a sharp mind and cool conduct. Keith wouldn’t wish for anyone else to follow into battle, to watch his back under fire.

Allura was all right, he supposed. She seemed brilliant and dedicated, and was also utterly gorgeous; Keith may be gay, but he wasn’t blind. Not to mention her history with the previous Voltron Force. He didn’t trust her, of course; but he trusted that she knew what she was doing.

Hunk seemed decent, Keith thought. Friendly and sunny, but a definite worrier. Keith wondered why he was on such a long, dangerous mission when it was so obvious he was deathly afraid of combat.

Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about Pidge. The tiny soldier had barely spoken to anyone during dinner, keeping his head low over his plate as Hunk and Lance filled the air over his head with chatter. He seemed to like his peace and quiet, something Keith understood. But it was impossible to know what the honey-eyed cadet was thinking; several times, Keith caught him glancing in his and Shiro’s direction, but Pidge’s expression had been unreadable every time. For Keith, whose survival usually relied upon reading people, it was… unsettling, to say the least. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Lance, on the other hand, was the only person Keith was  _ certain _ of how he felt. Keith had never liked noise, especially  _ loud _ noise, and Lance McLain was the loudest person Keith had ever met in his life. He also had an ego bigger than the Castle of Lions, which all combined, led to an abrasive, obnoxious person. Keith would almost rather be sent back to the lying nest of snakes that was the Garrison than sit there and listen to Lance chatter on about nothing. Almost.

The other boy also seemed to despise Keith with every inch of his being. The feeling was mutual.

The entire squad was sitting in the lounge, a large, circular room with soft, plush couches for down time. “Required team building,” as Coran had put it. The adviser had insisted that they stay in the lounge until they could get to know each other. As much as Keith was loath to admit it, the flamboyant orange-haired man had a strong point. In less than a day the gathered soldiers would need to literally trust each other with their lives; they should  _ at least _ know each other’s names beforehand.

“If we have to do an icebreaker, I’m leaving,” Keith muttered to Shiro under his breath.

“Let us start with an icebreaker!” Coran suggested. “It will be an excellent place to start!”

Shiro flashed a stern look at Keith, one that said  _ you park your ass in that seat and don’t even  _ think  _ about moving. _

Keith grumbled, but stayed put. He really hated it when Shiro pulled the "legal guardian" card, even if Keith was technically old enough to be on his own now. That kind of thing was for _life._

The other soldiers seemed to have mixed feelings about the proposed icebreakers. Allura looked unsurprised; she'd probably known it was coming. Shay looked nervous and more than a little shy. Pidge looked about as excited as Keith felt, staring glumly into the middle distance. Hunk seemed nervous, if not a little excited to get to know his new comrades a little more. Romelle and Lance looked like they were about to burst in excitement, the latter practically _vibrating_ in his seat.

Figures.

Coran continued. "Everyone, say hello to Chewy!" The man waved around a large fluffy object; upon closer inspection, Keith saw it was a large stuffed lion with brown fur and a fluffy multicolored mane. His face was a line of black thread for a mouth, a black button for a nose, and two large googly eyes.

"Chewy has been my lifelong companion," Coran continued, "and he is willing to help us out tonight! When I throw Chewy to someone, they must catch him and then tell us their division, their hobbies, and something about themselves."

Keith groaned internally. It was the introvert's worst nightmare: _tell us something about yourself._

"In time," Coran continued, "we will become a close-knit squad of soldiers. I know this because the previous Voltron Force, your predecessors, were closer than most other squads. They were closer than family." He paused, something melancholy passing across his face before he continued. "Those powerful bonds they had with each other caused them to fight all the harder, stand all the stronger. It is my hope that we, too, will gain those bonds and the strength that comes with them."

Shiro nodded firmly. "Coran is right," he said, addressing the younger soldiers. "We stand strongest when we stand together." He smiled gently at Coran. "Thank you for sharing. We'll all do our best."

The older man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he turned to address the rest of the group. "Now, without further ado, let us begin! I will start: I am Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, mechanic and field medic extraordinaire! My hobbies include fixing up the Castle, and working on my battle tank technique!"

Keith wasn't sure he had heard that right, but before he could think more on it, Coran was continuing on.

"I am a professional martial artist, trained by the very best in Altea." At that, Keith raised his eyebrows. Coran certainly didn't _seem_ to be a badass martial artist... but Keith knew it was unwise to assume Coran couldn't be a potential threat.

It was unwise to assume that about  _ anyone _ ; every person in this room had been chosen for a reason. That meant Keith couldn’t let his guard down, and he would have to pay close attention to see if he could trust these strangers to not stab him in the back.

Coran threw the stuffed lion--Keith  _ refused _ to call it by its name--toward Pidge. The tiny soldier caught it with a soft grunt as the fluffy mane was shoved into his face; he set the lion down on his lap, absently stroking the fur as he considered.

“I’m trained in communications and tech,” he said finally. “I like video games. And gardening. Something about myself…” Pidge trailed off, eyes distant. He shrugged. “I guess I’m willing to do whatever it takes to complete the mission.” His honey eyes were stormy.

Keith filed this information away, taking special note of the steel in the soldier’s voice as he had said the last bit. Was it beneath the younger boy to betray his teammates to reach his goals? Keith couldn’t be sure, not when he’s only known the guy for approximately a day.

That, Keith decided, was the worst part of this whole “mission” deal. He didn’t know who to trust, who would watch his back and who would stab it. It made him uneasy, being in a room with so many strangers, all with their different motives and potentially dangerous skillsets.

Keith wasn’t sure how much of that was his natural tendency to hold people at a distance, or all the scars he bore that told better than words the price of trusting the wrong person.

Pidge tossed Chewy to Shiro, who caught it deftly, effortlessly snatching it out of the air with his prosthetic hand.

“Shirogane Takashi,” Shiro said, tossing the lion from hand to hand. “‘Shiro’ is just fine, though. I’m trained in command strategy and hand-to-hand. I meditate, and I  _ try _ to cook sometimes.”

Keith couldn’t help but snort at that; Shiro was a  _ notoriously _ terrible cook.

Shiro shot Keith a playful grin before continuing. “I guess I’m ready to fight by your sides,” he said finally. “It’ll be an honor to stand with you all.”

Keith wondered if Shiro would toss it to Keith, since the older man  _ loved _ to see him squirm, but Shiro threw it to Hunk. Keith wasn’t very surprised by that, though; he knew Shiro genuinely wanted to get to know his new team.

Hunk fumbled the lion a bit before finally getting a hold on Chewy and setting him on his lap. “Uhh, well, I’m Hunk,” he started, then sighed. “Yeah, you… you all already know that. Umm…”

The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights, nearly petrified at being in the spotlight. Next to him, Lance nudged his side encouragingly. Hunk took a deep breath and continued.

“I was trained in mechanics and heavy artillery,” Hunk stated, “and I like to cook. I’m a mechanic, I guess.” He shrugged and threw Chewy in what seemed like a random direction.

Shay, one of the Castle supports, caught it with a fumble that looked quite similar to Hunk’s own. She cleared her throat.

“I have been educated in the Castle mechanics,” she said, her soft voice echoing in the large room, “and trained in field medicine. I also help care for Allura’s mice.” She looked like she was about to combust beneath the weight of everyone’s combined gazes; the girl shoved the lion at Romelle, who was sitting next to her.

The blonde girl straightened with a bright grin. Romelle was the polar opposite to the shy, timid Shay; she was bouncing in her seat, her braids thumping against her back as she enthusiastically took hold of the lion with a bright grin.

“Hello!” She beamed. If her smile was any brighter, Keith would have been blinded.

“I’m Romelle, and I’m your other Castle support! I like to assist Allura and Coran with their duties, and I’m trained in field medicine and combat!”

Keith wasn’t sure if he believed that. Romelle seemed far too bubbly and cheerful to be a soldier.

The girl enthusiastically tossed Chewy to Allura, who held the lion in front of her.

“I have been trained in combat as well,” she said without preamble, folding her dark arms around Chewy’s plush form, “as well as leadership and diplomacy. As Shay said, I do have pet mice, and I care for them often.” She exhaled. “I look forward to working with you all.”

And then came the moment Keith was dreading; Allura threw Chewy to him.

He automatically caught the lion, his reflexes taking over while his mind whirled to think of something to say.

Shiro nudged him, and Keith sighed.

“I’m Keith,” he said tersely. “I’m trained in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat.” He paused, unsure of what to say next.

“What do you like to do for fun, lad?” Coran asked from across the room, his earnest gaze pinning Keith to the couch.

Keith frowned. “Nothing,” he muttered. Next to him, Shiro let out a sigh; a scoff from the other side of the room drew Keith’s attention before he could elbow his older brother.

To Keith’s surprise--or lack thereof--it was Lance. He was lounging on the couch like he owned it, legs leisurely stretched in front of him. He had nice legs, but Keith refused to acknowledge that thought, especially after he saw Lance’s shit-eating grin.

“Surely you do  _ something, _ mullet,” he drawled lazily, that grin never leaving his face. “Unless you’re too  _ good _ for things like fun.”

Keith bristled, defenses rising just like that. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was sharp and husky with indignation. Were all loud people this obnoxious?

Lance straightened in his seat, his grin growing wider at Keith’s sour expression. “What I  _ meant  _ was that you--”

“Alright, enough!” Shiro’s voice cut off whatever Lance was about to say; the older man had no doubt felt Keith’s rising anger, and realized that if he didn’t do something quick, knives would start flying.

Lance just shrugged, turning another eat-shit grin on Keith before sliding down into his relaxed slump again.

Keith felt Shiro’s eyes on him, and he could practically  _ hear _ the older man think  _ don’t do anything stupid, _ but Keith was never one to sit back and think. He chucked Chewy across the room as hard as he could.

The lion hit Lance’s face with so much force, the boy toppled over with a grunt.

Shiro cast his eyes heavenward with a look that screamed,  _ Lord, give me strength. _

Lance took hold of the lion, shooting a glare at Keith. The latter glared back; he had faced down much, much worse than an egotistical sniper.

Lance huffed and shook his head. “I’m Lance McLain,” he said, his voice losing some of its heat as he continued. “Trained as a sniper, top of my class.” This last part was a smirk sent in Keith’s direction.

Keith bristled again, about to snap a comeback, but Shiro laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“I think that’s enough for today,” the older man said. “I think it’s best we turn in for the night. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes,” Coran said, twirling his mustache. “Your first mission! Go on, to bed with all of you! You’ll need your wits about you tomorrow!”

One by one, the assembled group filed out the door, Keith sending one last glower in Lance’s direction; infuriatingly, the boy responded with a smirk and a wink.

Finally, Keith and Shiro were the last ones in the room. Keith braced himself for the lecture that was surely coming.

“Keith,” Shiro said, and the younger soldier cringed. That was the patented “Dad Voice.” “What has gotten into you? We need to be able to work with these people.”

“I know,” Keith snapped, folding his arms tight across his chest. “He started it.” He knew he was sounding like a third grader, but he didn’t really care; he was already on edge from being around so many strange people at once, and Lance’s quips and teasing smirks hadn’t helped anything.

Shiro sighed. “I know you and Lance seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I really need you two to get along.” He fixed Keith with a stare. “You do realize that, as the sniper and our main close combat operative, you two in particular will need to be able to work together?”

Keith’s eyes darted to the floor; he  _ did _ know that, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. How could he trust such a relaxed, undisciplined person with his  _ life? _ Not to mention the guy was a total asshole.

“Please, for the sake of this team, try and get along with him,” Shiro said. “I know it isn’t easy for you to trust people, and I’m not expecting you to, but you’re going to need to  _ at least _ be able to work with them.”

Keith let out a huff. “Fine.”

Shiro’s eyebrows rose, his charcoal gaze never leaving Keith’s.

Keith barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I’ll try. Okay?”

Shiro’s lips twitched up at the corners. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Megamind voice* and our glorious rivalry was BORN!
> 
> We have not seen the last of Chewy! He's their unofficial mascot :p
> 
> Please leave a comment with how you liked the chapter! Y'all would be surprised at how far a few kind sentences and a few minutes of your time can go in terms of my motivation levels! The only kind of validation we fanfic writers get from this, other than the fun we had writing the stories, is people's comments and kudos! It's always nice to see that our work is loved and appreciated! <3<3<3
> 
> Don't forget to check out my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/firedragonworks) for updates on fics, any questions about my writing that you have, and just to chat!! I'd love to see you all there!


	9. Debut Mission Part 1: Stealth Op

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* hello!! I am way excited for this chapter!! It's been a long time coming but now it's here!
> 
> This is the first combat mission, so I have some rough concepts for the team's different combat gear. I got the concepts from Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D because their tactical gear looks frickin awesome (and this is turning out to be an AOS au!) ;) You can find the concepts [here!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HLWaPy-29JePNTxbM_OYTPuwCSDZB3c3Bq55ym0Ky5k/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> At this point, the team still thinks Pidge is a boy so that's why the pronouns are the way that they are :)

“Comms test,” Pidge’s voice came over the earpiece in Shiro’s ear.

“We hear you, Green,” Shiro replied, using the soldier’s callsign. They weren’t officially on the mission yet, but he was trying to set a good example for the other soldiers. If Shiro didn’t use the callsigns, nobody would; though Pidge claimed his tech to be hack-proof, Shiro didn’t want to risk the enemy breaking into their channels and finding out confidential information.

“Castleship is nearly in position,” Coran reported over comms. “Are you all ready to drop?”

“I’m on my way now,” Shiro answered. He ducked around a corner and entered the room. His soldiers were gathered there, all in various forms of readiness. Lance leaned against the wall, his rifles on the ground beside him, looking for all the world like he _wasn’t_ about to rush into a dangerous combat mission. Hunk looked like he was about to spontaneously combust from nerves, despite the fact that he and Pidge had the least dangerous parts. Shiro didn’t want to put his tech and mechanic people into more danger than they had to be before he thought they were ready. Pidge had pulled up his holoscreen and was scrolling through, likely going over the mission details one more time. Romelle was standing beside Lance, though her sniper rifle was slung over her shoulder. Shay was on the bridge, helping Allura and Coran pilot. If the other two needed to offer support with their battle tank, Shay would be the sole pilot of the ship.

The person Shiro was looking for was standing by the bay doors, taut as a bowstring. Keith was checking his knives, ensuring they were all in their places. His black-and-red tactical gear complimented him nicely; all black with trails of red highlighting the hard planes and angles of his body.

He had a small knife strapped to his left bicep, and longer knives at his thighs. He likely had a few more blades concealed in his boots and sleeves. A pair of thick metal rods were slung over his back in an X shape, and he had a pair of short, thick knives at his hips. Shiro knew from experience that those knives in particular could expand into full-length katanas. He had a pistol strapped to his lower thigh, beneath one of his blades, but Shiro knew he likely wouldn’t use it; Keith didn’t like guns much.

Shiro nudged his arm, and after a moment Keith nudged him back. Shiro turned to address his soldiers.

“Listen up, team.” At his words, everyone straightened and snapped to attention. Shiro continued. “The previous Voltron Force were _legends._ They saved countless people and went on hundreds of combat and stealth ops. This is _our_ first mission, but that doesn’t mean we should expect it to be easy. There is a Galra base nearby, where they store weapons and supplies. It is occupied by about four or five squadrons, but if we take the base it will strike a blow to terrorists in the surrounding area.” He met each soldier’s eye, one by one. “You all have your assignments. Let’s go become legends.”

* * *

Keith crouched down, eyes scanning the area in front of him. It was a maze of crates and metal boxes, all containing supplies. Shiro and Pidge were somewhere to their left, making their way through the maze to the building, where Pidge would wire his tech into the electrical system to take out the electricity. Keith and Hunk were heading for the other side to do the same; it was such a large building that there needed to be two people working on cutting the electricity. Lights, power, and most importantly, distress signals, would all be down. After that, they had roughly fifteen minutes to set charges, take out any resistance, and get the hell out before the backup generators kicked in or before the place lit up.

His breathing was slow and focused, his senses alert. Keith’s hands brushed against some of his knives, ready to grab them at a moment’s notice.

Behind him, Hunk was silent, looking like he might be sick. Keith felt a little sympathetic; the poor guy had never been in actual combat before, just training simulations. Keith’s job was to protect Hunk so he wouldn’t have to fight, but things could very easily go wrong on missions.

If only their support was a little more competent. Keith wasn’t sure where their snipers were situated; he knew Romelle and Lance were somewhere nearby, with a good vantage point so as to see into the maze below, though he didn’t know exactly where. There were quite a few tall trees that would make excellent sniper’s perches.

It wasn’t _Romelle_ that Keith had a huge problem with. She was bubbly and a little annoying, sure, but she knew how to buckle down and focus when it was time. Lance…did not.

Even now, Keith could hear him babbling away in his ear, as if they _weren’t_ on a deadly mission where one mistake could end up in someone getting hurt…or worse. Keith was trying to tune him out, but he was not being very successful.

Trying to ignore the incessant chatter, Keith crept forward, silent on his feet, hands on his blade hilts. Hunk’s footsteps scuffed softly, and Keith cringed internally; it was painfully obvious that the other soldier had never trained as an assassin.

Keith turned a corner and nearly ran into the barrel of a gun. The Galra soldier looked nearly as surprised as Keith was, but Keith got over it quicker. He whipped out his batons, cracking one across the enemy soldier’s face and following up by slamming the other into his solar plexus.

The soldier crumpled, wheezing as his breath was knocked from his lungs, and his companion turned. Keith’s thrown knife lodged into his throat, and he went down without a sound. The first man tried to stand and reach for his gun, but Keith cracked his baton over the soldier’s head and he collapsed. He didn’t rise again.

“Damn it, why didn’t you tell me there were hostiles?” Keith whisper-shouted into the comms. Of course Lance would be too distracted to actually _do his goddamn job._

“I did!” Lance’s voice sounded just as pissed off as Keith felt. “You weren’t listening to me!”

“Maybe I _would_ if you weren’t such a-”

“Guys,” Hunk interjected. “Can we do this later? Like, when we’re not in the middle of a stealth mission?”

“Gold’s right,” Shiro said. His voice was level, but Keith could tell he was tense. “Save it for after the op. And Lance, you really need to focus.”

“Sorry, Black.” Lance huffed.

Keith continued to creep between the crates, his anger and annoyance simmering below the surface. Leave it to Lance to mess up their entire op.

They were met with little resistance on their way to the control panel. When they reached it, Hunk reached into his pack for his supplies.

“We’re at the goal,” he murmured over comms as he began to open the control panel.

“Affirmative, Gold,” Lance said lazily. “I’ve got you covered.” Somehow, Keith wasn’t very assured.

Keith turned his back to Hunk, scanning the area. He was the mechanic’s only defense, and enemies could come in from all sides.

A small squad of four came around the corner, pausing in shock when they saw Keith and Hunk. Keith pulled his hood over his head, unsheathing the knives in his sleeves with a flick of his wrists. The hood had small weights in the hem, keeping it from falling off even as Keith began to move. He whirled, sending blades flying in flashes of silver. Two soldiers went down, hilts protruding from their chests, and the other two raised their guns.

Keith sprinted for them, pulling out a baton. He threw it; the metal rod slammed into one soldier’s head with a heavy _thunk,_ and he collapsed. The other turned to his companion, and Keith took him down with a deep slice to his carotid artery.

Two more soldiers appeared, and Keith ducked back to avoid the bullets whizzing past his small frame.

He rolled behind a crate, leaping out on the other side to throw another pair of knives. The soldiers slumped to the ground.

Keith retrieved his blades, wiping them clean on his gear before sliding them into their places.

“Thanks for the help, _sharpshooter,”_ Keith grumbled. Lance hadn’t lent a hand once during that entire encounter.

“I was waiting to see if the stories about you are true,” Lance said, voice crackling over the comms. He yawned. “Turns out they were over-exaggerating.”

Keith felt his anger flare, but a yelp from Hunk made him race to the other.

“Cut my hand on a wire,” Hunk explained sheepishly. “Wasn’t careful enough.”

Keith sighed and turned to take up his post again. These “soldiers” were hardly the stuff of legend. They didn’t stand a chance against what Zarkon and the Galra could-and would- throw at them.

_I can’t believe I’m going to die surrounded by these people._

* * *

The soldier burst through the door. “General Sendak, sir!”

Sendak growled and turned to face the messenger. “What do you want, soldier?” His voice was sharp; he hated being interrupted while he worked.

The woman swallowed. “The base is under attack,” she reported. “By the new Voltron Force.”

The general glowered. “Are you sure it’s them?”

The soldier nodded. “Our inside source confirmed that this base would be their first mission,” she said. “And now they’re here.”

Sendak stepped away from the table, setting his knife aside. The prisoner was nearly dead now anyway; Sendak wouldn’t be getting much more out of them. “Ready the troops.” He grinned maliciously. “I think it’s time we showed them what happens to those who cross the Empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Lance and Keith's rivalry is MUCH more fun than I thought it would be :) the boys are fightinnng
> 
> Expect a part 2 coming soon!!
> 
> Thanks for reading, everybody!! <3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me at my [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/firedragonworks)


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